Straight-Laced
by Belmione
Summary: "Kim is right. Jacqueline is painfully straight-laced. Always has been. It's just, she's never been the one holding the laces." Technically Soul Eater Not.


_**So I'm getting into Soul Eater and Soul Eater Not and I wrote a thing. It's 100% Kim and Jacqueline shipfest. Enjoy.**_

"Straight-laced chick!"

Kim spits the words at Jacqueline, flinging them in her face and she can't help but flinch. She nearly ducks, as if the phrase is material and is going to hit her if she doesn't move.

Kim is right. Jacqueline is painfully straight-laced. She spends an hour each morning just to make sure the part in her hair is perfectly even, no hair out of place. She uses a ruler instead of a comb.

Others say similar things. When she makes it into the EAT class, her first day is near-painful. The class is very small, and she knows the names of everyone here. The whole school knows the roster of who's in EAT; they're Shibusen's elite, only twelve or so people, now thirteen. She knows who they are, but she doubts they know she exists. The kid she knows is called Black*Star cackles when she walks in.

"Oi, look at her! Miss straight-laced goody-two-shoes! It's like Maka on steroids!"

Maka slugs him with a text book. She isn't sure if it's because Maka doesn't like that Black*Star is making fun of Jacqueline, or if she doesn't like being compared to the only girl in Shibusen who is more neurotically precise than she is.

Everyone calls her straight-laced. People use the phrase to refer to her more than they use her name.

They're right. She is straight-laced. Always has been. It's just, she's never been the one holding the laces.

Her family expects very specific results from her. She has always been told what is the "right" way to do things, what is "respectable" and what is not. Her whole life is made up of exact measurements.

They track the points she earns on tests and essays. Tell her, just short of making graphs of her progress, where she excels and where she does not. Where she does not excel, she must learn to. Only one-hundred percent is acceptable. Halves and quarters of points matter.

Her mother, from the time she was two, was teaching her how to calculate clothing. Skirts should pass no more than an inch above the knee. Only quarter-length or full-length sleeves, no shorter. Navy blue, black, and white are acceptable. Red is not, green only in dark, muted shades.

Dying her hair is not at all respectable. Her natural shade of brown-black is best. She must wear it up in a french twist or a bun. The only protest she has ever won was letting her mother concede to two tails of hair that she can keep down at her shoulders. Her nails must be kept just beyond the pads of her fingertips, filed to a curve, never square. Precise, but never threatening, never sharp. She must keep the edges of herself hidden and filed.

Her grandmother is tasked with teaching her how to choose a husband for when she gets to marrying age. Marrying age is exactly eighteen. Partnering before eighteen is unacceptable. Passing age twenty one without partnering is unsatisfactory. She mustn't choose anyone that would mar her family's clean image. She learns how to spot a man whose suits fit him correctly. How a certain kind of cufflink speaks of his breeding. How to tell if his shoes are real Italian leather or not. They tell her how to choose her friends too. Very few are accepted. Never anyone Jacqueline likes. Only the young girls from her parent's social circles they hope will give her connections, and young men they hope she'll match up with.

On her fourteenth birthday, she's quietly angry at her party, but doesn't let it show. Her grandmother has been questioning her for hours and it has frazzled Jacqueline. She doesn't understand why she can't find an answer when her grandmother asks her why she hasn't picked anyone to go to their private school's formal with. She can't find an answer when she asks Jacqueline why she can't pick from such a wide array of respectable young men. She can't, try as she might, dredge a reaction to any of them.

She can't escape the feelings of restraint. She feels squeezed tighter and tighter everyday and can't help wanting to thrash with all of her strength until she breaks free. She raises her arm to shake the hand of an approved acquaintance that she severely dislikes. She dislikes him because he is her parents and her grandmother's favorite choice for her and she has been trying since she was twelve to like him. She can't pull the reaction from her chest. She can't find the affection that her mother says is supposed to be there. She is numb to him. She dislikes him because he reminds her of everything about herself that unsatisfactory.

The young man yelps and stumbles back, eventually tumbling to the floor in his surprise. Her father sputters, turning puce, and her mother bursts into tears. Jacqueline looks wildly around and it takes her a few moments to realize it's her that's startled the man close to tears. She yelps when she sees it herself.

Her arm is on fire.

She tries to put it out and when she smacks her hand on her forearm, a resounding clang answers. Her arm has turned to metal and fire and she doesn't know how to put it out. It takes an hour for it to go back to normal. Her mother is still crying. All the guests left immediately, shooed out by her parents who don't want them to see her, afraid they'll be socially doomed if their acquaintances looks at her any longer.

She has weapon blood.

Her parents send her to Shibusen as soon as they can get her there. She is happy to be going, but it's marred by the knowledge that she would've gone whether she liked it or not. It's the most respectable option there is for _weapons,_ her father sneers. Jacqueline knows they do not think it, or her, respectable at all. It is merely the least objectionable thing they can think to do with her. Put her in an institution where people like her belong. With the way they refer to it, Jacqueline thinks the place may be closer to a prison than a school. A corrective place.

When she arrives, she knows her parents wouldn't have sent her here if they'd seen it themselves. Shibusen is far too celebratory of weapons for their tastes. They didn't accompany her, to help her settle in. Just shoved her on the plane weeks before the term started, the first day she was allowed to stay in the dorms without paying extra.

The girl who shows her around smiles more than anyone she's ever seen. The only people Jacqueline has ever been around kept their expressions as muted and severe as possible. She blushes and smiles back and the expression feels foreign to her muscles. She can't hold it for very long.

"Oh and watch out for the witch of the dorm," the girl giggles.

"W-witch?!"

No, her mother certainly wouldn't have sent her here if she knew witches were welcome. She thought that witches were too disrespectful even for Shibusen. Witches are unruly, uncontrollable, degenerate. That is what Jacqueline has always been told.

"She's not actually a witch. Just a little...forceful. Keep your allowance close or she'll take it."

"Oh."

"Her name is Kim. You'll know who she is when you see her."

The girl is right. Days later, after Jacqueline has meticulously unpacked all of her belongings, she's wandering the halls, trying to get a sense of the place. Another girl rounds the corner and Jacquelinestops in her tracks. She's never seen anyone like her.

Her skirt is so _short._ It barely covers a thing and her legs seem to go for miles there's so much skin exposed. The garment must be almost a foot above her knees. She wears socks that hug the rest of her legs, and they highlight her shape rather than hide it. She's wearing a boy's coat. As if the girl can read her mind, she hunches her shoulders, bringing the coat further down on her torso. Her hair is shorter than her skirt, and highlighter-pink, cut in choppy strokes like the girl did it herself. It looks slept on. She doesn't demurely look at the floor as Jacqueline was taught to do if someone else is present. She stares hard at her, with a scowl that Jaqueline's mother would think most un-lady-like. She shuffles her feet along the floor, dragging her strides and making noise with her presence like Jaqueline was taught never to do. She stops right in front of her, feet far apart rather than delicately touching one another.

Jacqueline can't take it all in. She jumps when the girl holds out her hand. She says nothing. Jacqueline doesn't speak either. The girl gets disgruntled near-immediately.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what? I apologize, I don't understand."

"Jeez, you talk like a politician."

"I-"

"Hand it over."

"I don't follow-"

"Your _allowance_, straight-laced chick!"

Jacqueline hands it over without another word, panicking. She doesn't know how to disobey an order.

She wonders for the rest of the day what it must be like to be able to tell instead of be told.

She's told she may take her time choosing a meister, but she chooses one as quickly as possible. She must do her best to make her parents happy. They are already disapproving of her and she has to make up for it as best she can. She mustn't fall behind in school. She chooses a classmate that looks exactly like the kind of young man her parents would approve of. He dresses expensively, says the right things at the right time, and is impossibly controlling. Never asks her anything, only tells her. He's perfect.

Jacqueline nearly bursts into tears when she realizes, after months, that he's a terrible match for her as a meister. They continue to partner up, but he can barely touch her without dropping her. She has bruises after every practice. She burns him, or swings out of control, or wraps her chain around his arm, unwieldy, every time. She doesn't know what she's expected to do. He's the only person her parents would possibly approve of. She can't sleep at all that night, wondering to the point of nausea what is wrong with her. Why can't she be what they want? Why does she continue to be all wrong no matter how hard she tries?

As if that weren't bad enough, the "witch" of the dorm has taken her allowance every week. She has to work to make up for it. She'll never tell her parents. They'd think it too "low-class," even though Jacqueline doesn't mind the work and enjoys being able to talk to people rather than stay sequestered in her dorm. She thinks herself very perverse because she can't help but like Kim, despite her stealing her money every week. Kim is uncontrollable. Jacqueline wishes sometimes she were like that. Not only unwilling, but unable to be controlled.

Weeks later, Jacqueline frantically dashes back to her dorm after her class, mortified at herself. It's only been a week since she's been in EAT and she's gone and stolen a library book. Not from the library, but from Maka Albarn, which is worse. Maka is at the top of their class and very well-connected and well-known at Shibusen. Jacqueline has been raised to recognize a well-connected person and to notice who has family ties in a given place, which Maka certainly has. Maka is one of the most well-connected people she knows here and she's gone and put herself in terrible favor with her. Her parents would be positively livid.

The little blonde meister dropped the book in question and instead of returning it, Jacqueline swiped it up as Maka chatted with Tsubaki. She raced back to her dorm half-expecting Maka to be tailing her the whole way.

After she's sure she's alone, she runs her hands over the cover. She knows that Kim isn't a real witch, and that knowledge makes her think it even more foolish that she took the purple-bound book. But the dusty tome on witches magic intrigues her nonetheless. She wonders if real witches are as fascinating and independent as Kim is and she has to know.

She has to read it tonight. She knows Maka will discover its absence quickly; she likely has it checked out because Soul is on his 99th soul and they need to start hunting witches. It's also a level-4 library book that Maka has probably checked out with her father's ID. If Jacqueline is caught with it, she'll be in a world of trouble. The whole thing is entirely disrespectful but Jacqueline reads anyway.

She learns that witches have their very own realm that can only be accessed by other witches. They have their own loose governing process. They are almost always women. They aren't widely understood and are often in the in-between in political matters. Because of their unruliness, they aren't allowed in Death City at all. Some are benevolent presences, some ruthlessly evil, and some recklessly neutral. The overall implication is that no one really understands witches. They're not completely capable of being understood, and it makes them unable to be controlled.

Everyone is scared of witches because they know that a witch may do what she wants. She has the power to act as she pleases, to operate outside of what's respectable, controllable, knowable. Witches have the power to be immanently themselves and Jacqueline thinks that that is what truly scares people.

She is horrified at her own thoughts, but she thinks she wishes she were a witch. She loves the idea of living somewhere that is its own world, the idea of being able to align herself as she wishes. To be powerful and good, but also maybe free and neutral, or even sickeningly evil if she wanted. She loves the idea of never forcing herself to match up with young men if she doesn't want to, to be surrounded by unruly women who don't have to measure their sleeves and the parts in their hair. She wishes she were powerful, ungovernable, and free.

Maka corners her a week later at lunch, green eyes flashing.

"You have the book. I know you do."

Jaqueline shrinks.

"How do you-"

"Because Soul and Black*Star don't read, Ox follows the rules too much, Tsubaki has already read it, and I searched everyone else's apartments. You're the only one left."

Jacqueline wonders in this moment if maybe Maka is like a witch too. She certainly has a ferocity that belies her size. She has the power and connection to search everyone in EAT for the book without letting any authority know that she has it. She is tiny and lanky and blonde and pigtailed and it doesn't matter; Maka is terrifying. Jacqueline tries not to let on that she's scared of her. She tries even harder not to let on that she wishes she were like her, like she wishes she were like Kim.

"If I give it back, will you promise not to say anything?"

"I don't see why I should."

"Please. If my family finds out I was reading about witches-"

Maka cocks her head, scowling confusedly.

"I thought you'd be more concerned that it's a level-4 book and you're not supposed to have it."

Jacqueline swallows and draws up the most rigid posture she can muster. She schools her face into the most exact and severe scowl she can manage. She's grasping at straws, but Maka has connections and has a respect for respectability itself. Jacqueline thinks she'll be able to understand someone who was bred to be able balance superiority, delicacy, and a hint of snobbery at a moment's notice.

"You aren't authorized to have it either, though," she sniffs. "You got it with your father's ID, which is blatant nepotism. If you tell on me, I'll tell on you. Your name is the one that'll be on the checkout roster, not mine. The buck stops with you," Jacqueline ventures back, surprising herself at the challenge. Maka blanches, caught. She's peeved, but she knows her classmate right. Jacqueline doesn't tell her that she only thinks she's right because she has been raised like a politician, instantly able to convince others of her inherent propriety.

"Fine, I won't say anything. If," she pauses, poising a gloved finger at Jacqueline, "you tell me why your parents are so scared of books about witches."

"It's too obscene and disrespectful!" Jacqueline whispers shrilly.

"You're at school, though. _Your_ parents don't live here, you can get away with it."

"Don't insinuate that you can't get away with it, you already have," Jacqueline huffs. "Plus, my parents are more resourceful than you think. They can't find out, I'm already all wrong!"

Something in Jacqueline breaks now and before she knows it, she's venting her frustrations at her schoolmate.

"I have weapon blood and they _hate _it. My meister is exactly the kind of person they'd want me to partner with and we're an _awful_ match. They don't want me to read anything they think isn't appropriate. They can't know I've even _thought_ about witches, let alone read an entire book on them-"

"But _you're_ not a witch. You're at a school that actively hunts them. Why would they be upset?"

"You don't understand. I'm just...all wrong. And it doesn't matter what I do, I can't seem to change it."

Maka's hard eyes soften a little. She confuses Jacqueline; she shifts moods at a moment's notice and doesn't bother to hide her emotions or intentions.

"You get good grades. You're third in our class behind me and Ox. You're very young to be in the EAT class. People really respect you. How is there anything wrong with you?

"I don't know. There just is. I'm never enough."

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's not you that's wrong?"

Jacqueline falls silent.

"If it takes that much effort to stay right, maybe it's not right. Not for you, at least."

"I don't know how to do anything else."

"I'd start by finding a new meister. Because you're right, that kid's a terrible match for you. He drops you every time."

With that, Maka snatches the book from Jacqueline's bag and skips off to sit with her weapon. She thinks that where Kim merely acts like a witch, Maka may be a real one. She's too confusing. Jacqueline doesn't think anyone has any hope of understanding her.

Jacqueline knows who she wants to be her meister. She's known she wanted to partner with Kim since she saw her, though she squashed the feeling as best she could until now. But she thinks she'd know how it feels to be free if she were with Kim. But can she really do it? Can she partner with the girl who's as close to a real witch as anyone she's ever met?

The more she thinks about Kim, the more she thinks she can't partner with anyone else. She clings to thoughts of her. She thinks of Kim's small hands wielding her instead of the larger, rougher, confining ones of her current meister. She watches the smooth, delicate curve of her neck that peeks out from under the rough edge of her hair. She marvels at how in-control she is of her surroundings. She blushes furiously at her own behavior, but still notices and likes the sway of her hips in that short skirt of hers.

The first time she dreams of kissing Kim, she realizes another way she's all wrong for her family. Why she never has been able to dredge an ounce of interest for any of the young men they thought were suitable for her, or any young men at all for that matter. She wishes even more fervently now that she were a witch, able to do what she wants, choose the partner she wants, her reputation be damned.

Maybe if she can't be a witch, she can at least partner with one.

Jacqueline cries a little when she tries to get Kim to go get ice cream with her and she says no. Not just no. She snipes, "You couldn't pay me to."

She is trying to approach things slowly, to be her friend before she asks her to partner up with her, even if she hints to Kim here and there at her weapon ability. But it seems like Jacqueline is all wrong to Kim, too. She, like everyone else, won't even call her by her name. She just snaps "straight-laced chick" at her and turns her back on her.

Jacqueline cries because she doesn't want to be straight-laced. She doesn't want to be tied down like that. She just doesn't know how to be anything else. She's never been allowed to be anything else. She's all wrong and doesn't know how to fix herself.

The three young girls in the NOT class that live in the same dorm try their best to help her. Jacqueline doesn't know what she's done to deserve it, but they do everything in their power to get Kim to like her. Eventually, Jacqueline tells them they've done enough, not because she doesn't appreciate their help, but because she's accepted that Kim thinks she's all wrong just like everyone else does. She placates the girls by telling them she's going to go ask Kim directly to be her partner. She isn't telling the truth. She is going to go confront Kim, but not for the reasons she says. She wants to know what's wrong with her. She wants to know what it is about her that repels people. She knows Kim is the only person blunt enough to tell her.

She finds her in an alleyway, a motorcycle zipping past her. Jacqueline flinches when a bundle of piping falls on a small dog that's following Kim. Kim yelps. She watches her, shocked, as she frantically throws pipes off of the dog, flinging them in all directions. She gathers the animal into her lap. She's so gentle with it. Jacqueline has never seen her act like this. She's never seen her care for anything like this. Jacqueline winces. The dog is very badly hurt. She doesn't think there's much they'll be able to do for it.

She hears Kim tell the dog that she's going to heal it. She expects her to take it to a veterinarian. What happens instead is unthinkable and Jacqueline isn't sure she's seeing things correctly. A faint, yellowish glow surrounds the animal, fades again. Jacqueline has to blink a few more times to know that she's not seeing things. The dog looks completely unscathed. She can't stop herself from darting into the alley at Kim, determined to get to the bottom of it.

"You healed his injuries," she murmurs, approaching her. Kim starts violently. "Was that magic?"

Jacqueline is putting everything together in her head when she notices something in Kim's eyes that she's never seen there before. Fear. Kim looks at her in horror, still cradling the wriggling dog.

"No."

"But-"

"No!"

Kim shakes her head rapidly, hair tossing, eyes shut as tightly as she can get them as if she's trying to will Jacqueline's questions away. She looks like she's short of clapping her hands to her ears.

"Are you a real witch?"

It's not really a question. Jacqueline has been right the entire time. She's both scared and elated to meet a real witch. But how is Kim still here in Death City without being detected? She decides to ask her.

"How is that possible?"

Kim is clutching the dog like it's her lifeline. She trembles.

"It's not like I was born a witch because I wanted to be one."

The statement hangs in the air. She doesn't want to be a witch?

"I hated the world of witches, and ran away. I thought if I was at Shibusen, I could cut my ties to being a witch."

Jacqueline hears tears in her voice. She feels as if she can't breathe. She thought being a witch would be easier. The world of witches seemed so different from her own. Every person she's met that she's admired seemed like a witch to her, because they were so talented and independent and free. It seemed like it would be so freeing. But here is Kim, tearing up, kneeling on the pavement, hating the world of witches. Jacqueline wonders. Is there any place that isn't confining?

She should be upset to learn that the world of witches can be as confining as her own. But she isn't. She realizes it is much better to learn that there is someone else like her. There is someone else who feels all wrong. There is someone else who feels shame at how they were born, who feels disapproved of for existing. There is someone else who feels tied up, who is trying her utmost to get out, to get free. Kim, who snaps at her for being straight-laced, who seems her opposite, who is a real witch with magic and power and everything Jacqueline thought would make her free understands better than anyone. Jacqueline's own vision blurs a little. For the first time in her life, she doesn't feel alone.

Kim is still talking, shaking her head, nearly rocking back and forth.

"I even cut my prized hair, dressed like a boy, and avoided others-"

Jacqueline is elated that Kim is confiding in her. Until Kim's voice turns shrill and she wails, "But then, out of all people, why did a straight-laced chick like you have to be the one?"

It hits Jacqueline like a blow to the gut that Kim thinks she's going to turn her in, particularly _because_ she's straight-laced. She doesn't trust her. She thinks her life at Shibusen is over. She gets up and whispers frantically, "I'm finished," and then she's running and Jacqueline knows if she doesn't stop her, she's never going to see her again. Kim will run away from Shibusen for good unless Jacqueline stops her. She can't let her. She's not going to let the one person she's ever felt had a hope of understanding her go. Further, she refuses to let Kim keep going feeling like she's all wrong too. Jacqueline knows that _she_ has a hope of understanding Kim and she's not letting her leave without knowing it. Kim is right to Jacqueline and she's got to let her know. She thrusts her arm out and snatches Kim's wrist, vice-like. She struggles violently.

"Let me go," she snarls. Kim still thinks that she is going to turn her in.

"No!"

"What do you want?!"

She thinks she's trying to catch her, pin her down. Jacqueline knows she won't get a word in edgewise if she tries to talk to her. So she does the only thing she can think to do to get Kim to calm down. She yanks her into her arms and keeps her there. She's not letting her go.

"It's alright!" she squeezes her gently for emphasis, resting her chin on her shoulder, mouth close to her ear, trying to get her to listen. "It's alright," she murmurs, quieter this time. She just breathes slowly after that, trying to get Kim to slow down too. She doesn't speak again until Kim has gone lax in her arms.

"Since I'm a straight-laced chick, I can keep a secret," she whispers. Kim scoffs.

"Idiot. How can I believe you?!"

Jacqueline can tell she wants to believe her. She wonders if she'll be snapped at for it, but she threads her hand into Kim's hair and cradles her head, hoping it'll calm the thoughts the she knows are whirling in her brain. Kim's been hiding too long to be able to believe her yet. Jacqueline knows the feeling. It's impossible to unlearn one's entire existence at a moment's notice. She's in the process of unlearning a lot of things herself. It'll take time. But Jacqueline is willing to wait. She doesn't care how long it takes. She'll see to it that Kim doesn't feel alone anymore. She'll let her know, even if it takes her forever, that where Jacqueline is concerned, Kim is one hundred percent right.

"Okay, then as hush money, you can buy me something."

Kim relaxes. Money makes sense to her. She steps back, waiting for Jacqueline to speak.

"I know this ice cream shop-"

Kim rolls her eyes but nods anyway.

"Okay, fine."

They're both a bit peeved that there's a gaggle of freshmen at the shop. Their nerves are frayed and they want to spend time together without others around but Jacqueline stays silent about it. They are the same girls that tried for days to help her appeal to Kim and she isn't going to insult them like that.

"Hey, Jackie."

She raises her eyebrows. It's the first time anyone has called her anything other than the full, formal "Jacqueline." She's never had a nickname. Kim blushes.

"That thing earlier. That's just between us."

She feels her chest swell to have something just between her and Kim. To have a real connection with someone. She nods once, sharply.

"Of course."

"Your saving grace is that you're so straight-laced. Make sure to hold up your end."

Jacqueline has never, until this moment, liked being referred to as straight-laced. But she's glad to hear it now. The phrase feels much different now. With Kim, not everything she grew up with is bad anymore. As much hell as it's given her, Kim is already showing her that being straight-laced has its strengths. She's never felt comfortable in her skin until today. Until Kim. She wants to return the favor someday, if Kim will let her. She thinks she'll tell her sometime that for a while, she wanted to be a witch. That even now, the word feels beautiful in her mouth.

"From now on, you're gonna be my partner after all."

Jackie can't do anything but nod vigorously, a blush, a smile, and a few tears that Kim doesn't see mixing on her face. She has never felt wanted before now. Only accepted. But Kim has asked _her_ to be her partner. For once, someone has come to her. Jackie can't do a thing but keep nodding.

They walk home together, taking the long way, meandering through the sun-baked streets of Death City. Kim quietly slips her hand into Jackie's. Things she has never felt settle on her in this moment. Jackie feels herself. She feels good enough. She feels liked. She feels comfortable.

She marvels at how it feels like the world has reordered itself as she laces her fingers with Kim's and Kim squeezes back. Everything that was wrong flips on its head and becomes right. Jackie giggles.

"What are you laughing at?" Kim huffs.

"You really are magic, aren't you?" she asks her, marveling at the new order of things.

Kim rolls her eyes again but she can't hide the blush.

"I thought we went over this. I'm a witch? If it makes you feel better, my magic is a little different than most witches. It's healing magic."

"It certainly is."

Kim quirks an eyebrow, clearly confused at Jackie's odd behavior. But she smiles after, grudgingly accepting that someone seems to like the idea of her magic. She keeps walking and doesn't question Jackie any further.

Jacqueline just smiles and walks closer to her, wondering but not really caring whether it's really her magic or just Kim herself that has, for the first time in her life, made Jackie's feel completely, perfectly, unconditionally right.

_**Hope you all enjoyed! I'd love it if you'd leave a review to tell me your thoughts and such. Thanks for reading!**_

_**~Belmione**_


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